


located in Infinity (a small village just outside Bristol)

by izzybeth



Category: Museum Of Everything
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzybeth/pseuds/izzybeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another day at the Museum Of Everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	located in Infinity (a small village just outside Bristol)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaresu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/gifts).



> Simplified Chinese and Cyrillic are used very briefly in this work. They are the Chinese and Russian words for 'hello', in case you see boxes and don't feel like screwing around with your browser's encoding. Many many thanks to lovelokest for introducing me to the Museum, and doing beta duty as well.

_bing bong_  
"Welcome to the Museum Of Everything. Please feel free to wander our galleries, attend our lectures, ask impossible-to-answer questions of our Museum guides, cheapen our displays with your eyes, and go home feeling a bit dissatisfied. Enjoy your visit."

\---

"Cheers then, thanks then, cheers, okay, thanks then, cheers, okay,"

 _"cheers."_

"Welcome to the Museum Of"

 _"Everything,"_

"we are your tour guides for"

 _"Everything,"_

"which is a bit of a misnomer since the Museum doesn't offer any actual tours, per se. It's pretty much every man for himself around here, unless you need to"

 _"find the loo."_

"In which case please come find one of us so we may direct you to the"

 _"GIFT SHOP"_

"where you may be able to purchase Birth Of Venus nudie pens, snow globes with a miniature Badgerland in, fudge in the shape of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and rolls of toilet paper embossed with the Museum Of Everything's logo at an"

 _"extortionate price."_

"We had a bit of trouble with some teenagers papering the T-Rex skellington last week, so no more bog roll in the bogs. Well done, teenagers,"

 _"ruining it for everyone."_

"Forgive us if we're a bit off our game, but it happens to be"

 _"annual review day."_

"At some point today, we've all got to go up and"

 _"be invasively questioned"_

"by the Museum's curator, gravelly-voiced American singer/songwriter Tom Waits. And the staff are a little bit nervous, y'see."

"So don't blame us if we're cranky, petulant, unhelpful, snarky, or"

 _"all of the above."_

"We may have just been fired."

 _"Cheers, then!"_

\---

 _bing bong_  
"The Museum is pleased to announce the opening of 'It's TEA-lightful: A Comprehensive Audio-Visual History Of Britain's Favorite Beverage As Hosted By Arthur Dent' on the forty-second floor."

\---

Hello, I'm Arthur Dent, a character from Douglas Adams's popular series, The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy. As you may know, in the titular novel I spent a number of chapters tying up the ship's computer in a time of crisis attempting to teach it to make the perfect cup of tea. We could all have been killed due to my thoughtlessness! Ha ha! But it all worked out in the end and I got my cuppa, which is the important part.

Join me as I go on an agricultural journey through time, where I will show to you the wonder, beauty, and aromatic charm of the world's second favorite beverage, TEA!

It is in China, approximately 900 BCE, that the first records of tea-drinking are found. This is Laozi, the famous philosopher!

"你好."

How are you, Lao?

"Well, I'm right bloody fed up with kids these days. I think the entire dynasty is going to hell."

What do you suppose you might do about it?

"Think I'll take a very very long walk."

And Laozi did just that. He walked to the edge of the uninhabited wilderness, where he met a customs official called Yin Hsi, who served Lao tea. Feeling better, Lao?

"YES."

Tea spread to Japan by about 500 AD, and to Korea by 600. in 1285, Marco Polo met a Chinese minister of finance who raised the tea taxes for no good reason. What a bastard. Other western explorers made record of tea-drinking in the mid-sixteenth century, but utterly failed to bring any of the stuff back to Europe. Honestly, how hard is it to shove some leaves in a bag and put them on a ship? Giovanni Batista Ramusio, Lourenço de Almeida, I'm looking at you guys.

At long last, someone managed to get it right. The Dutch East India Company ("Hallo!") were the first to bring green tea from China to Amsterdam in the early seventeenth century. From there, the French took to it ("Bonjour!"), and the Russians ("Привет!"), and the Germans ("Guten tag!"), and finally the English ("Wotcher."), where it flourished and grew so well (on the back of the opium trade but that's a nasty piece of business that we at the Museum Of Everything are prepared to gloss right over, thanks), that now the tea market in England is worth billions of dollars, and supports companies like Twinings, in business for 304 years! Well done there.

"Er, excuse me."

Yes, I'm sorry-- who are you?

"I'm a lawyer for the Twinings tea company, and I'm here to serve you this cease and desist notice."

What? Why?

"You are using the name of Twinings in this audio-visual display without the express permisson of said company. 'S copyright infringement. So, er... stop it."

Oh all right. Where was I... French, Russians, Germans, English, opium trade, ah, here we are. 'The tea market in England is worth billions of dollars, and supports companies whose names I am not allowed to mention for fear of litigation.' Better?

"Yes, thank you. Barry's, Lyons, and Typhoo thank you as well."

So what next for tea? As the world's second most popular beverage (the first being water), tea has nowhere to go but up! Almost every country in the world has its own tea-drinking traditions, from the serenity and dignity of the Japanese tea ceremony to the abomination and horror that is an American cup of Lipton. (Seriously, people. We're here to help.) Tea may even one day be enjoyed in space! I mean, yeah, I've already done that, but I'm just a fictional character. I'm talking real life here. Tea in space, brilliant.

I hope you've enjoyed this presentation on the wonder and delight that is a bunch of oxidized _camellia sinensis_ leaf and boiling water. Bye, then!

\---

 _bing bong_  
"This is a staff announcement. The following people are to report to the Curator's office for their annual review: John the museum guide, Fred the carpark attendant, and Jane the annou-- oh, that's me."

\---

"Er, hello, Mr. Waits, I'm here for my review."

Mr. Waits waves Jane over to one of the chairs in front of his upright piano. He strikes a match, sucks on a bent Marlboro, and hits a B flat minor 6th chord on the upright.

"I was southbound on a lonesome stretch of Interstate Number Five through the citrus groves and vineyards of central California, when my Vespa ran dry due to poor planning on my part. I was rescued by a large woman with a Hindenberg tattoo and an eyepatch who went by the name of Maisie. She was hauling a vintage silver Airstream trailer that unfolded like the Swiss Army had built the International Space Station." Mr. Waits takes a moment to blow a few wobbly smoke rings. "We tied my Vespa to the top of the Airstream with seven spare bungee cords and some twine... She said she'd give me a lift to the next truck stop in return for... sexual favors. I agreed, with a number of stipulations to the deal. The experience was fairly traumatic for both parties involved, not to mention the Airstream and any and all passers-by on Interstate Five. But I have no regrets... Maisie was true to her word and dropped me and the Vespa at a Flying J, where they charged me three dollars and sixty-nine cents for a gallon of gasoline... I refueled the Vespa, and overtook Maisie and her jigsaw Airstream back on the highway. As I passed on the right, she flipped me the bird... affectionately, I like to think."

"Right. Well. I think my enunciation has been improving lately. Only a couple visitors mixed up the Niagara display for the History of Erectile Dysfunction Medicine Gallery last week." Jane offers a small smile.

"I once knew a man, name of Alexander, had a bit of trouble in that area."

"Erectile dysfunction?"

"No, Niagara Falls, New York. Lost an eye in a freak carpentry accident, spent the rest of his days as a clerk in a duty free shop near the border crossing selling kitsch to Canadian tourists on their way home. He started out small, keychains and refrigerator magnets, and eventually worked his way up to booze..." Mr. Waits noodles with a C minor 7th. "Said he saw every type of human being in that duty free shop. Sweet old ladies, bikers, university professors (a subset singularly partial to Grey Goose Brand Vodka, Alex was amused to note; fairly cheap but not disgusting), newlyweds, petty criminals... His first month on the job was spent chasing down many of the petty criminals, since unfortunately the Swarovski jewelry case was beyond the peripheral vision range of his remaining eye. He finally convinced the manager to install a security system, which solved a few problems while creating some new ones..."

Jane fights the urge to fidget. "Have we ever considered selling alcohol in the _GIFT SHOP,_ sir?"

Mr. Waits rumbles deep in his throat. "Hmm." It sounds like an eighteen-wheeler on a gravel road somewhere in Nevada. "I'll ask Katherine when she gets here." He mashes out the Marlboro in a filthy ashtray on top of the piano. "Well, Jane, thanks for doing a great job here. I'll see you again next year. Cheers, then."

\---

 _bing bong_  
"I am not sacked."

\---

Welcome to the Museum Of Everything Fillum Institute.

Well done!  
Safety first!

Ah, yes. Tonight I'll be talking with two of the least influential people in the fillum industry: these blokes.

Cheerio!  
Rum do.  
Completely useless.  
Righto!

Now, my first question for you blokes is, why are you here?

Sorry, old boy, we were looking for the pub and apparently got a bit lost!  
Bad show!

And, am I correct in thinking that you both know absolutely nothing about fillum?

Well, I wouldn't go that far.  
Bit extreme.  
We've seen a flick or two in our time.  
This Sporting Life!  
Richard Harris!  
Violent rugby scenes!  
1963!  
Kitchen sink!  
Sitchen kink!  
SPOONER!

I have no idea what you're talking about.

[cough]

No, you're right, old thing, film isn't really our forte.  
Right, we're more of the changing-room-pranks, pub-shenanigans, drinking-games-involving-your-nadger philosophy.

Oh, we had those in fillum school, before I dropped out! I think I remember one we called Big Gulp.

Bloody funny!  
Well done!  
'larious!

When your mate took a loo break, usually during a pointless romance scene where nothing even comes close to exploding, everyone else would drop their johnsons in his Club Orange--

Splosh!  
Swimming willies!  
Splosh!

\--and last bloke in had to down it. Disgusting.

You'd know?  
Voice of experience!  
Tough luck!

Oh shut up and go away. Join me next week when I'll be speaking with the only person left willing to appear on my show: unemployed foley artist Doug Evans. Good night.

Silver screen!  
CGI!  
Jude Law!  
Straight to vid!  
Vaight to strid!  
SPOONER!  
THUNDER!!

\---

 _bing bong_  
"This is a visitor announcement. The History Of Office Supplies Gallery is now open on the twenty-ninth floor, or at least it will be until the staff nick all the displays."

\---

"Following me, please, following me!" Lady Bagshot leads the tour party into one of Bagshot Grange’s innumerable disused bedchambers. "Following me AND HANDS TO OURSELVES. I don’t know what it is you people do in--" She peers at a woman’s visitor badge-- "Manitoba, but here it’s no touchy-touchy." She straightens her broad shoulders. "Now. Here we have the bedchamber used by my great-great-great-great-great-great-GREAT grandmother, Lady Millicent Bagshot. As you can see by the furrow in the mattress that persists to this day, Lady Millicent was an expansive woman. To put it as kindly as possible. I really don’t know how she managed, as the stairs to the second floor weren’t added until the early nineteenth century. Apparently she had to make do with the trebuchet. Attesting to this are the various dents here in the plaster, where she must have broken not a few bones while vaulting in."

Lady Bagshot whirls around, sharply clipping a child’s ear with her enormous signet ring. The child starts to howl, and Lady Bagshot looks up and around for the source of the noise. "What is THAT? Oh, it’s a stunted person. Do shut it; we don’t allow such displays of emotion in this house." The child hiccups and tapers off. The child’s mother glares at Lady Bagshot furiously, seizes the child by the wrist, and leaves.

"Hmph, good riddance, I should have called the constabulary on them the moment I saw them. Disturbance of the peace, hideous clothing, suspicious _eyes,_ I know the type when I see it." She huffs out a great breath. "Well! The mirror over the fireplace here is six hundred years old, given to Lady Millicent as a wedding gift. The cracks in the glass are only slightly newer, as they were inflicted by Lady Millicent’s reflection on the Morning After. That’s what marriage will do to you, ladies and gentlemen. If you take nothing else away from this tour, please remember that."

"Ah, hello dear, another tour party, is it?"

"THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is my own personal object lesson. My husband Geoffrey is, as you can see, wheelchair-bound, and as you may not be able to see, the reason you unwashed foreigners are able to tramp about my house and grounds, scaring the help and liberating anything not nailed down." Lady Bagshot shoves Geoffrey’s wheelchair off with her dinghy-sized foot. "He signed us up for unlimited liability at Lloyd’s, and now we are four million in the, as it is so commonly put, _hole,_ forcing me to open my ancestral home to gum-chewing preadolescents, unkempt college students, screaming children, and... the elderly." She shudders.

"Now dear, it’s not as bad as all that, this looks a very nice group of people--"

"DO shut up, Geoffrey. If you exercised your legs as often as you exercise your mouth, you’d be out of that infernal chair in no time, and there’d be no need for all your ghastly _disability aids._ " Lady Bagshot turns back to the tour group. "I do apologize for my husband, ladies and gentlemen. If he unnerves you even in the slightest, I’ll have him sent back into the closet from whence he CAME."

"Don’t trouble yourself, dear; I’ll just go, shall I?" Geoffrey wheels himself back out into the hall.

"Yes, you shall." Lady Bagshot heaves another gargantuan sigh. "More trouble than he’s worth, I don’t know why I keep him about. Now, following me, please, following me..."

\---

"All right, cheers then, thanks then, cheers then, okay, thanks then, okay,"

 _"cheers."_

"Once upon a time in a faraway land, is how the stories usually start."

"One of my favorites, John, starts with 'a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.'"

"Yeah, that's a good one. Lightsabers and that."

"Yeah."

"Sorry, what was I saying?"

"I think you were about to introduce the new audio-visual exhibit, John."

"Oh, yes. Right, well, through these very doors, the ones here that've been all smeared and marked up by the last school party, is the definitive history of fiction."

"Yeah, the Museum could've done something tangible like the history of the carrot or the history of the blanket, but a) we thought we'd challenge ourselves and b) carrots and blankets are"

 _"boring."_

"So please settle yourselves into these carriages shaped like the complete works of Shakespeare,"

"and we'll lower the safety bars so there can be no escape. Muhuhahahahaaaa."

"Just joking. Remember, horror is a genre of fiction too."

"The safety bar isn't the only bar we're lowering these days here at the Museum Of Everything."

"Please keep your hands and feet"

"inside the tome,"

 _"and enjoy the ride!"_

\---

I... AM... _MERLIN!_ LEGENDARY _WIZARD_ OF KING ARTHUR! SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME, MAN HAS DREAMED OF MAKING THINGS UP AND TELLING LEGITIMATE LIES TO HIS FELLOW MAN. THIS IS THE HISTORY OF... _FICTION!_

It is the Stone Age. A caveman grunts alarmedly to his companion [grunt! grunt!] and points up into a tree. Oh no! Is it a snake? An oversized prehistoric bird of prey? A saber-toothed sloth? Ha ha! No, you stupid caveman! Your friend was just making it up. There's nothing there at all! Thus, was FICTION born. [second caveman beats first caveman over the head with a branch]

The ancient Egyptians had fiction too. They told each other fantastical lies about sky goddesses, crocodile and jackal gods, and journeys through the afterlife. These lies were beautiful in their intricacy, creativity, and sheer volume. Only, the Egyptians actually believed all of them. Poor sods.

In medieval times, fiction was starting to be used for entertainment rather than (or in addition to) pulling one over on your neighbor. People discovered their lies were worth money if they were interesting enough. Some people's lies were so interesting, they would set them to music, and travel around the kingdom to sell them. Those people were called "troubadours."

 _"Sweet handsome friend, I can tell you truly  
that I've never been without desire  
since it pleased you that I have you as my courtly lover;  
nor did a time ever arrive, sweet handsome friend,  
when I didn't want to see you often;  
nor did I ever feel regret,  
nor did it ever come to pass, if you went off angry,  
that I felt joy until you had come back;  
nor ever."_

All lies.

The first person to fully exploit his talent for interesting lying was Geoffrey Chaucer. ("Hello.") And not only in his books! During the reign of Richard II, Chaucer worked as Comptroller of Customs for the Port of London. ("And Clerk Of The Works, and Deputy Forester in North Petherton.") All right, all right, monarch's pet. Anyway, he must have done a fair bit of lying on the job. What a scamp! Also, the father of English literature! Well done, Geoff. ("Ta.")

Fiction had become so popular by the 18th century, that a whole new category had to be included in libraries. this new section was called "nonfiction." Authors of books on the sciences, the arts, languages, and other topics, were understandably disgruntled at being defined by what they were not. We interviewed the inventor of the novel, Jane Austen (available in fudge form in the Museum of Everything _GIFT SHOP_ ), and she had this to say about it: "Tough biscuits!" Well said, Ms. Austen. Well said.

\---

"That was the Museum Of Everything, written and performed by Marcus Brigstocke, Danny Robins, and Dan Tetsell with Lucy Montgomery. Original music by Dominic Haslam and Ben Walker. The producer was Alex Walsh-Taylor."

\---

 _bing bong_  
"This is a visitor announcement. The Museum is now closed."

 _bing bong_  
"This is a staff announcement. Would the Museum staff please begin to clean up the atrocious mess left by the visitors. Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur Dent appears courtesy of Douglas Adams and a good cup of PG Tips. Tibors de Sarenom and the single surviving verse of her canso appears courtesy of Wikipedia and the 12th c. troubadour tradition. Tom Waits appears courtesy of ANTI Records.


End file.
